Nervously walks to the corner
The neighbourhood kids close by
They shove him around
Push him to the ground
But he refuses to cry

Just shakes it off
Must get to his route
His family struggles
He needs to help out

Delivering today’s headlines
…. Others are depending on him

His first job and so young
He takes it seriously
This little man with big shoulders
So much responsibility

There’s old Mrs. Pickering
She’s not so well… so he shovels her sidewalk too
Never asking for money
Tells her a “thank you” will do

There’s Mrs. Ashley
She’s always so mean
The Suttons, the Churchill’s
And an x beauty queen
Mr. Craig who never tips
Miss Wren who’s barely nineteen

His first job and so young
He takes it seriously
This little man with big shoulders
So much responsibility

His age hasn’t reached double digits yet
Mature beyond his years
This tiny man just pushes on
Acting older than he appears

Cold and tired
He’s reaches the last door
His feet are frozen
Can’t feel his fingers any more
He’s heading home
…. No one even remembers his name

Oh quiet little man
Your life solitaire
Delivering the news
Knowing most don’t care

…. He’s just the kid that delivers the news

I look at the kids today and don’t really know if I envy or pity them. Someone once asked me if I could pick any age to go back to, what would it be? I thought for a moment and said “are you crazy, I wouldn’t want to go through any of that again”. Our kids have a whole new set of challenges ahead, but I’m not sure if we’ve helped them or set them up for more hardship. The world is a mess and I’m not convinced many of the young people today are resourceful enough to endure doing without or adapting to change. I mean, my kids think “doing without” is waiting for their I Pod to recharge. We were always taught if you wanted or needed something you simply worked for it; today they just take what they want or borrow more. We try so hard to make sure our kids don’t have to struggle like we did, but I wonder if we’re cheating them out of some valuable life lessons. We were never allowed to make excuses as kids either; it never mattered whose fault something was, or why things didn’t go well, we just focused on what we needed to do.

Even at a young age I appreciated and recognized how hard my parents worked to make ends meet and provide for us. They could give you what you needed, but if you wanted anything else you had to go out and earn it. I hated them spending money on me and begged my mother to let me take a paper route when I was only eight years old. She was reluctant, but knew how capable I was even at a young age. I took the job very seriously, and tried to keep a tight schedule. Often times I’d head down to the corner to pick up the bundles and there would be a few of the neighbourhood kids hanging around. I was small for my age, usually the smallest kid in my class, so I was an easy target. Nervous of anyone back then, but determined, I headed to the corner for my punishment and to get my papers. I wasn’t much of a fighter at the ripe old age of eight, but I was tough and refused to cry or let anyone stop me from getting my job done.

I did a lot of jobs as a kid and never let my size or age deter me from making money. Besides my papers, I’d cut grass in the summer, even though I had to reach up to push the handle, and shovel snow in the winter. Back then we only had those big heavy metal shovels, but hey, we didn’t know any different. I had a good customer base with a lot of seniors from my paper route. I’d shovel their sidewalks and leave, never once asking for payment; they’d just give me extra money when I collected on Saturday mornings. To be honest, I never really cared if they paid me or not. We were always taught to look out and respect our seniors and I lived by that rule all my life. Even as an adult I’d shovel my senior neighbour’s driveways and sidewalks. I guess I always figured I’d need the favour returned some day; not sure if that’ll ever happen.

Delivering papers was a decent job and steady income. I especially looked forward to Christmas time when my customers would give me cards with money or larger tips. I think about it now, they probably felt sorry for this little eight year old with the frozen hands and feet, red nose, and an oversized jacket. Those days of making my own money and buying my own things taught me a lot about dealing with people and responsibility. I was organized, committed, and reliable, not to mention financially independent. I remember a couple Christmas’s I actually thought I had more money than my parents, so I would go out and buy everyone in our family a Christmas gift. Most of my customers didn’t even know my name or even care to ask: they just referred to me as “the paper boy” or “son”. I was actually ok with that; as long as they paid every week and were happy with the service, I never cared what they called me.